I. Sharing a Room
The boys are moved in together. The mattress for the top bunk arrived earlier this week, and they were both hopping up and down excitedly as we pulled a fitted sheet over it (only peed on once since then) and set up the newly shared room. The first night they went down at about 7:30 and we heard them talking until 8:30. The second night they went down at 7:30 and we finally broke up the party at 10. The third night they both took really good naps and fell asleep promptly at 7:30. I still think they're staying up later than they were, but it's been a success on the whole.
Neither them were particularly good at keeping their room clean under the old arrangement, but the new situation seems to have an exponential effect on the mess. James spent on afternoon clipping every piece of paper he could find into the tiniest possible shards with a pair of kindergarten scissors. I don't know if that was a deliberate effort to make confetti, but that's exactly what it looks like. Just this morning we heard the unmistakable sound of Owen turning over an entire plastic bin of legos. What once was neatly put away is not scattered from one end of the room to another.
Also this morning, James came down and reported that Owen had spilled sand all over their floor and was playing in it. I figured that this must be a pretend game that they were playing. After all, Owen keeps talking about how much he wants to go back to the beach. It was not pretend. They had two balloons (neither inflated any longer, but how dare anyone suggest we throw them out) which were tethered by a smaller balloon filled with sand. Owen emptied all the sand out of one of the tethers. And, yes, he was upstairs playing in the sand. I went up with them with a broom and dustbin and swept up all the sand.
They had also--and I have no guesses as to why--stolen the wastebin from the bathroom. There wasn't anything new in it, just kleenex and toilet paper tubes from the bathroom. But it was in there. And then it was tipped over, so that was all over the floor too.
Whenever their room does eventually get cleaned, I might need a hazmat suit to do it.
II. Lawn Mower Troubles
There was no postponing mowing the yard any longer. Our neighbors to the right had mowed, our neighbors to the left had mowed. Our yard was an unsightly field of overgrown grass spotted with patches of even longer growths of grass. I carefully set up the stepladder and pulled the mower down from overhead storage. I wheeled it around back, primed it, and got ready to attempt the first pull-start of the season. Then the boys came out and needed their push-mowers out too. So I went back into the garage, and pulled theirs out. And then they watched me start it.
I yanked the cord, and the engine roared to life. And then died.
"I don't think it's working." remarked James.
"It no work." said Owen
"No," I said "it isn't working yet."
So I primed it again and yanked on the cord. The same thing happened. I checked to see if the air filter was clogged, and made sure there was some oil in the pan. I tried starting it again, and it still didn't work. The boys sat down in the grass to watch me work. I went down to the basement, came back with some tools, and disassembled some parts that looked vaguely important. Then, seeing nothing obviously wrong. I put them back. Still nothing. The boys decided to play baseball. I googled "Why does my mower stall after starting."
It quickly became apparent that I would need to check/clean the carburetor. Unfortunately, I didn't have the necessary tools or expertise to do this. Notably, I did not have carburetor cleaner, or knowledge of what a carburetor was, or what a carburetor does, or a firm grasp on how to spell the word "carburetor."
But, gradually, with the help of Amazon and the internet, I acquired all of these things, albeit imperfectly, and so it came to pass that yesterday, after spilling gasoline all over the driveway, I successfully cleaned my lawn mower's carburetor and changed the oil.
The boys were happy to mow too.
III. Recently Reading
All Quiet on the Western Front
The Twenty-One Balloons
Germinal
Ancient Education and Today
Saturday, April 29, 2017
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
24/100
10 People
1. Tom was the burly man from the energy company who came to our house unannounced today. We were auto-enrolled in a state program that provides free energy audits and basic repairs, and his company is one of the contractors. Mike did the initial inspection a few weeks ago, and today our doorbell rang shortly after 1. I was on the phone, and J was in the kitchen. Tom introduced himself. His head was shaped like an enormous triangle, and his chest was so big that I thought he might have to turn sideways to walk through our doors. I cleared my trumpet cases out of his way downstairs, and he wrenched down at our gas pipes for over an hour, occasionally coming up to make remarks about galvanized steel and bushings, and other things I didn't understand. He shook my hand once he was finished and pulled out of our driveway.
2. Dominic sold us our minivan yesterday. He gave me a curious sort of look when we walked into the dealership and remarked that he thought he knew me. I said my name was Roy, but he heard "Corey," and I had to repeat myself. Then I forgot his name, and thought for a moment that maybe his name was "Corey," but that couldn't be right. He eventually figured out that I was a Smith, and told me that he'd gone to school with Martha. Dominic and his wife put an offer in on their first home last night, and they are waiting to hear whether it's been accepted or not. They'd rather live in Albion than Medina, even though they both work in Medina. I made him take at least six different offers and counteroffers up to his manager before we finally accepted a price, but he still took J and I across the road to Double Dips after we'd completed the sale. Apparently he and J have the same birthday.
3. Brian was the salesman at the Oakfield dealership. We were over an hour late to meet with him, because we'd been talking to Dominic and haggling about a price for our Transit. We apologized to Brian, and I asked him if I could leave my coffee on his desk while we test drove the Chrysler that he had for us. We took it down to my Dad's old studio and turned around in the parking lot. He let me borrow a piece of paper to work out the calculations for cost per mile v. remaining miles, and then looked disappointed when I told him we were going to drive back to Medina. J felt sorry for him.
4. Andrew was the 17 year old who bought our Yaris. He's going to MCC for nursing in the fall, and he might transfer to Roberts after he finishes two years there. His younger sisters are homeschooled, and they kicked a ball around with James and Owen while we transferred the title and took off the plates. Andrew was wearing Bills gear both times I saw him, and grinning from ear to ear about having his own car. He hasn't passed his driver's test yet.
5. Charlie is Andrew's grandfather. He collects Corvettes and keeps them so clean that "you could eat off the floors." He thinks that you need to be tougher on boys than on girls, and he thinks that owning a car will be good for Charlie, because "you have to grow up at some point." He thinks that the Yaris is in pretty good shape, but that we didn't keep it clean enough. His oldest son lost his wife recently, and he's glad he was so hard on him when he was a boy, because it toughened him up enough. He says that women always side with the kids, but that he told his wife that he was right. He's retired now, but his son (the widower) took over his contracting business.
6. Peter is Andrew's father, and Charlie's son in law. He went and grabbed a screwdriver when I realized that I'd forgotten one, and then a ratchet set when the screwdriver wouldn't get the license plate off. He says he isn't particularly handy with tools, and that he was just glad his father-in-law wasn't there to stand over his shoulder. His father-in-law pulled into the driveway almost immediately after he said this.
6. Gregg was the salesman at the Bath dealership who I called twice yesterday. I pretended to be interested in one of his Transit Connects, but I was really just trying to get Dominic to drop the price on the car we ended up buying. I forgot Gregg's name while I was talking to him the first time and called him Marcus or something. Gregg texted me his name and number after that so that I could save it in my phone. Dominic called him back a few minutes later and pretended to be me so that he could get VIN numbers for a few other vehicles. I don't think we sounded very much alike.
7. Melissa looked at the Yaris last week. She has two kids, and she was a double major in flute and piano when she started college, but then she switched to international relations. She spent some time in South America and met her husband down there. She came with her husband and her father, and she loved the color of the Yaris. They drove it around in a pouring rainstorm, and then all four of us chatted in the garage while it poured outside. They had been trying to make due with just one car, but they it was just too hard. They offered us a little less than what we were asking, and we decided to wait through the weekend. By the time she called back to offer us more, Andrew had already bought it.
8. Bill is Melissa's father. He used to go running every day, but he had to have a knee replaced about ten years ago, and he can't run anymore. Now he just takes long walks. He has three kids and nine grandkids, and they live in Rochester. He knows one of the RPO violinists, and he has a nice looking poncho.
9. Sonya plays violin in Syracuse. Last night she was playing concertmaster. I think she went to school in Rochester, and I've seen her at compline with her husband kids before. She facebook messaged me on the way back last night and told me there was a tail light out on the Corolla.
10. Owen is a two year old. He sucks on his fingers and takes off his pants whenever he remembers that he's wearing them. He ate an enormous cookie at Wegmans this morning, and then hardly any of his lunch. He smashed up his vegetables into little pieces with his fingers, and then when his mother told him to use a spoon, he used the spoon to smash up his sandwich. He has lots of sand in his shoes.
1. Tom was the burly man from the energy company who came to our house unannounced today. We were auto-enrolled in a state program that provides free energy audits and basic repairs, and his company is one of the contractors. Mike did the initial inspection a few weeks ago, and today our doorbell rang shortly after 1. I was on the phone, and J was in the kitchen. Tom introduced himself. His head was shaped like an enormous triangle, and his chest was so big that I thought he might have to turn sideways to walk through our doors. I cleared my trumpet cases out of his way downstairs, and he wrenched down at our gas pipes for over an hour, occasionally coming up to make remarks about galvanized steel and bushings, and other things I didn't understand. He shook my hand once he was finished and pulled out of our driveway.
2. Dominic sold us our minivan yesterday. He gave me a curious sort of look when we walked into the dealership and remarked that he thought he knew me. I said my name was Roy, but he heard "Corey," and I had to repeat myself. Then I forgot his name, and thought for a moment that maybe his name was "Corey," but that couldn't be right. He eventually figured out that I was a Smith, and told me that he'd gone to school with Martha. Dominic and his wife put an offer in on their first home last night, and they are waiting to hear whether it's been accepted or not. They'd rather live in Albion than Medina, even though they both work in Medina. I made him take at least six different offers and counteroffers up to his manager before we finally accepted a price, but he still took J and I across the road to Double Dips after we'd completed the sale. Apparently he and J have the same birthday.
3. Brian was the salesman at the Oakfield dealership. We were over an hour late to meet with him, because we'd been talking to Dominic and haggling about a price for our Transit. We apologized to Brian, and I asked him if I could leave my coffee on his desk while we test drove the Chrysler that he had for us. We took it down to my Dad's old studio and turned around in the parking lot. He let me borrow a piece of paper to work out the calculations for cost per mile v. remaining miles, and then looked disappointed when I told him we were going to drive back to Medina. J felt sorry for him.
4. Andrew was the 17 year old who bought our Yaris. He's going to MCC for nursing in the fall, and he might transfer to Roberts after he finishes two years there. His younger sisters are homeschooled, and they kicked a ball around with James and Owen while we transferred the title and took off the plates. Andrew was wearing Bills gear both times I saw him, and grinning from ear to ear about having his own car. He hasn't passed his driver's test yet.
5. Charlie is Andrew's grandfather. He collects Corvettes and keeps them so clean that "you could eat off the floors." He thinks that you need to be tougher on boys than on girls, and he thinks that owning a car will be good for Charlie, because "you have to grow up at some point." He thinks that the Yaris is in pretty good shape, but that we didn't keep it clean enough. His oldest son lost his wife recently, and he's glad he was so hard on him when he was a boy, because it toughened him up enough. He says that women always side with the kids, but that he told his wife that he was right. He's retired now, but his son (the widower) took over his contracting business.
6. Peter is Andrew's father, and Charlie's son in law. He went and grabbed a screwdriver when I realized that I'd forgotten one, and then a ratchet set when the screwdriver wouldn't get the license plate off. He says he isn't particularly handy with tools, and that he was just glad his father-in-law wasn't there to stand over his shoulder. His father-in-law pulled into the driveway almost immediately after he said this.
6. Gregg was the salesman at the Bath dealership who I called twice yesterday. I pretended to be interested in one of his Transit Connects, but I was really just trying to get Dominic to drop the price on the car we ended up buying. I forgot Gregg's name while I was talking to him the first time and called him Marcus or something. Gregg texted me his name and number after that so that I could save it in my phone. Dominic called him back a few minutes later and pretended to be me so that he could get VIN numbers for a few other vehicles. I don't think we sounded very much alike.
7. Melissa looked at the Yaris last week. She has two kids, and she was a double major in flute and piano when she started college, but then she switched to international relations. She spent some time in South America and met her husband down there. She came with her husband and her father, and she loved the color of the Yaris. They drove it around in a pouring rainstorm, and then all four of us chatted in the garage while it poured outside. They had been trying to make due with just one car, but they it was just too hard. They offered us a little less than what we were asking, and we decided to wait through the weekend. By the time she called back to offer us more, Andrew had already bought it.
8. Bill is Melissa's father. He used to go running every day, but he had to have a knee replaced about ten years ago, and he can't run anymore. Now he just takes long walks. He has three kids and nine grandkids, and they live in Rochester. He knows one of the RPO violinists, and he has a nice looking poncho.
9. Sonya plays violin in Syracuse. Last night she was playing concertmaster. I think she went to school in Rochester, and I've seen her at compline with her husband kids before. She facebook messaged me on the way back last night and told me there was a tail light out on the Corolla.
10. Owen is a two year old. He sucks on his fingers and takes off his pants whenever he remembers that he's wearing them. He ate an enormous cookie at Wegmans this morning, and then hardly any of his lunch. He smashed up his vegetables into little pieces with his fingers, and then when his mother told him to use a spoon, he used the spoon to smash up his sandwich. He has lots of sand in his shoes.
Thursday, April 6, 2017
26/100
I have a love/hate relationship with my cornet.
I love it because it was my very first instrument, a birthday present (8 years old?) from my Dad before I joined the beginner band at Albion Elementary. It's pretty neat to still have your first instrument. And it would be pretty neat to still be using my first instrument at gigs, except that cornets are awful, and mine is no exception.
A cornet is different than a trumpet because it is shaped conically instead of cylindrically. Whereas a trumpet's bore remains pretty much the same size until the instrument makes its final turn into the bell, a cornet gradually tapers from the mouthpiece all the way through the bell flare. This means that the cornet sound is much mellower and can be sweeter than the trumpet, which is direct. That should be good, right? Not if you're sitting next to a section of trombones. Plus, cornet-making technology hasn't kept pace with trumpet-making techniques, so a lot of the problems with pitch and response that have gradually improved with trumpets over the years are quite problematic on cornets. Add in the fact that my instrument is a student model that saw way too many bumps and bruises, and you understand why it's really only suitable for outdoor summer use only as a musical instrument.
But even if I had the chance to get a nicer cornet I wouldn't get rid of this one. This was the instrument my Father gave me. This was the instrument where I found my voice, and there's still something thrillingly familiar about the way that it feels in my hands and even the way that it smells. I couldn't ever let it go.
We played our rehearsal this morning and I was packing up, getting ready to go. I set the cornet down for just a second on the top of my case while I packed up my mutes. And then it wobbled and crashed down directly onto my C trumpet bell, crinkling and badly denting it.
I hate the cornet.
I love it because it was my very first instrument, a birthday present (8 years old?) from my Dad before I joined the beginner band at Albion Elementary. It's pretty neat to still have your first instrument. And it would be pretty neat to still be using my first instrument at gigs, except that cornets are awful, and mine is no exception.
A cornet is different than a trumpet because it is shaped conically instead of cylindrically. Whereas a trumpet's bore remains pretty much the same size until the instrument makes its final turn into the bell, a cornet gradually tapers from the mouthpiece all the way through the bell flare. This means that the cornet sound is much mellower and can be sweeter than the trumpet, which is direct. That should be good, right? Not if you're sitting next to a section of trombones. Plus, cornet-making technology hasn't kept pace with trumpet-making techniques, so a lot of the problems with pitch and response that have gradually improved with trumpets over the years are quite problematic on cornets. Add in the fact that my instrument is a student model that saw way too many bumps and bruises, and you understand why it's really only suitable for outdoor summer use only as a musical instrument.
But even if I had the chance to get a nicer cornet I wouldn't get rid of this one. This was the instrument my Father gave me. This was the instrument where I found my voice, and there's still something thrillingly familiar about the way that it feels in my hands and even the way that it smells. I couldn't ever let it go.
We played our rehearsal this morning and I was packing up, getting ready to go. I set the cornet down for just a second on the top of my case while I packed up my mutes. And then it wobbled and crashed down directly onto my C trumpet bell, crinkling and badly denting it.
I hate the cornet.
Monday, April 3, 2017
25/100
I should be Spring Cleaning.
At least, at some level I should be Spring Cleaning, since it is currently Spring and there are many things that need cleaning. There are many things that just need doing at the moment, and I've run out of resolve to do any of them. A few moments ago James and I went out to the front step to do Homeschool. We were going to have class outside, as you do on a delightfully warm and sunny day. But it had clouded over since lunchtime, and there was chilly breeze, and neither of us had proper coats, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. We agreed to finish school later today.
And so I came back in. I came back in past the two baskets of laundry that need to be folded, the folder full of choir anthems that were finished two months ago, and through the library, which is currently a mess of toy trains, James' school things in a heap, books pulled off of shelves, legos, duplos, hot wheels, and nesting toys.
And I sat down at my desk. My desk that has my old phone on it, which I ought to sell on eBay or something if Sprint isn't going to buy it after all. And the two paystubs which ought to be filed in date order in my file. And the request from the Laurelton Volunteer Fire Department for their fundraising drive. And the Zola novel which I just finished which ought to be back on the shelf, and the Rowan Williams book which I inter-library loaned which I ought to keep plugging away at. And a pair of headphones, so I can listen to the latest brass chat interview. And a long list of pieces that I ought to be listening to and looking up the scores for.
All of it's in a heap, along with a mouthpiece case, two mutes, a bottle of valve oil, a library card, a pen, the complete poems of Phillip Larkin, four notebooks, and my Fredonia folder.
I'm just not sure that I have it in me to do Spring Cleaning today.
The funny thing is that while I'm out of the house--while I'm driving to Syracuse or sitting in the pit counting rests, I'm full of expectation that if I could only get home for a few hours I could look up a way to order J a new bank card and schedule the warranty work that needs to be taken care of on the Yaris, and clean out and vacuum my car and take the boys up to the lake to throw rocks in and all of the other grand schemes.
But I think that all of those things will need to wait until tomorrow. It will still be Spring tomorrow.
At least, at some level I should be Spring Cleaning, since it is currently Spring and there are many things that need cleaning. There are many things that just need doing at the moment, and I've run out of resolve to do any of them. A few moments ago James and I went out to the front step to do Homeschool. We were going to have class outside, as you do on a delightfully warm and sunny day. But it had clouded over since lunchtime, and there was chilly breeze, and neither of us had proper coats, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. We agreed to finish school later today.
And so I came back in. I came back in past the two baskets of laundry that need to be folded, the folder full of choir anthems that were finished two months ago, and through the library, which is currently a mess of toy trains, James' school things in a heap, books pulled off of shelves, legos, duplos, hot wheels, and nesting toys.
And I sat down at my desk. My desk that has my old phone on it, which I ought to sell on eBay or something if Sprint isn't going to buy it after all. And the two paystubs which ought to be filed in date order in my file. And the request from the Laurelton Volunteer Fire Department for their fundraising drive. And the Zola novel which I just finished which ought to be back on the shelf, and the Rowan Williams book which I inter-library loaned which I ought to keep plugging away at. And a pair of headphones, so I can listen to the latest brass chat interview. And a long list of pieces that I ought to be listening to and looking up the scores for.
All of it's in a heap, along with a mouthpiece case, two mutes, a bottle of valve oil, a library card, a pen, the complete poems of Phillip Larkin, four notebooks, and my Fredonia folder.
I'm just not sure that I have it in me to do Spring Cleaning today.
The funny thing is that while I'm out of the house--while I'm driving to Syracuse or sitting in the pit counting rests, I'm full of expectation that if I could only get home for a few hours I could look up a way to order J a new bank card and schedule the warranty work that needs to be taken care of on the Yaris, and clean out and vacuum my car and take the boys up to the lake to throw rocks in and all of the other grand schemes.
But I think that all of those things will need to wait until tomorrow. It will still be Spring tomorrow.
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